


Paradise Lost

by dizzykicks



Series: East of Eden [2]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Rhealeth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 04:48:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20501138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzykicks/pseuds/dizzykicks
Summary: A mirror fic to 'This Side of Paradise'.Rhea and Byleth tumble into a heated romance, but as Rhea fears, nothing gold can last.





	Paradise Lost

**Author's Note:**

> "She tied you to her kitchen chair  
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair  
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah"

"Rhea, these flowers have wilted. Look at the state of them! Would you like me to-"  
  
"Leave them, please, Seteth. If you change their water out, they'll come back around soon enough."

The archbishop returned to the cold cup of tea in front of her. She sipped, the herbs hazing the corners of her mind that scratched, tore, and bit at her. They tried to drag her back again, to that fateful place. Even now, as the rain pounded against her bedroom window, she could see them - _curved knives gutting her mother's corpse, sullied hands tossing organs aside like dirty laundry into the puddles of bloodied mud forming around them, hunting for her spine._ Rhea sipped once more.

"Flayn tells me you're expecting a visitor. It isn't like you to call for guests, Rhea," came Seteth's wary voice from over by the bookshelves. "It's her, isn't it?"

"Brother, be a dear and tend to the flowers down in my office, won't you?"  
  
Her tone was curt and pointed as the ears they both shared, hidden under veils of verdant locks. She sensed something in him bristle, but readjust.

"Of course. I bid you goodnight, sister. May your..._visitor_ serve you well."

The siblings exchanged stiff nods, Rhea letting the breath held trapped in between her ribs go once the door closed behind him.

She leaned her head back, headdress jingling as it bumped against the back of her armchair.

With another taste of tea, Rhea let her eyes flutter shut for a moment, inhaling the earthy scent deeply. She dreamed of drowning in wide eyes, dreamed of no longer having to hide.  
  
_Hairy, calloused hands cracked bone. The Children of Man were greedy. It would not be enough for them. One corpse was never enough._  
  
_The one they called Nemesis carried her mother's head atop his shoulder. Her eyes were still shut. She could've been sleeping, as she so loved to do. But the blood, oh, the blood! The canyon was stained from it. And in his other hand, the one they called Nemesis carried her spine._  
  
_Rhea hid in the hollow of the tree, and bit back a howl._

"Would you like me to come back another time?"  
  
The archbishop jolted.  
  
"Oh..._Oh! _Do forgive me for my rudeness, my dear one! I did not hear you come in," Rhea said. She hastily fixed at her clothes and got up from her armchair. Glazed eyes considered her flatly from underneath long tresses of sweeping green hair, eyelashes heavy. Rhea's pulse quickened, a curious heat pooling in a region she only remembered she had in these past few weeks. Cold sweat still dripped down her back. It was a juxtaposition of emotions that left her brain spinning. She hurried to collect herself.  
  
"Please, take the chair. Seteth tended a lovely fire earlier, and it's warmest there. You must be cold, I am told you took the students for a patrol through the snow this afternoon. Quite impressive!"  
  
Byleth nodded politely, brushing past her in a wave of heady perfume that had the archbishop's ears threatening to hang low. Rhea swallowed thickly, taking a spot on the lounge nearby. She shifted her dress, crossed her legs, and hoped the unsettling pounding between them would stop. _But oh, those eyes...so much like her-_  
  
"You only have one chair?"  
  
Pointed ears jumped at attention from beneath their hiding spots.  
  
"Someone inherited Jeralt's manners, I see! Admittedly, I do not see many guests. You must think me odd for it, as the archbishop," Rhea said.  
  
"Not really," Byleth shook her head. "I can understand wanting to rest in peace. I enjoy solitude, as well."  
  
"I wouldn't say I enjoy it," Rhea said. Her tone was off, but a smile came easily across her face at the sight of tiny hands fidgeting with a stray thread along those laced leggings.  
  
"You have the flowers to keep you company, though," Byleth pointed. "I brought you those in the spring. They're still here?"  
  
"A testament to your skill as a gardener, professor. You could easily quit your day job to take it up, although based on what I've seen of your skills in the classroom, it really would be a shame for you to forgo teaching."  
  
"If it meant keeping you company, I'd consider it."  
  
Blood rushed to the tips of Rhea's ears. She felt her pupils threaten to dilate, and prayed to the goddess that she wouldn't embarrass herself further.  
  
"T-that doesn't sound like you, does it?"  
  
Byleth failed to respond, offering only a stare heavy with something pooling just beneath the surface.  
  
"W-well, as it is, I do not wish to be rash, no matter how I desire for our bonds to strengthen."  
  
"Is that why you asked me here? To strengthen our bonds?" Byleth asked evenly. Her head tilted to the side, like one of the dozens of cats that roamed the monastery. The archbishop quickly scanned her face, attempting to keep her own expression as steady.  
  
"Yes, you remembered correctly. I simply wish to keep an open line of communication with you, now that it's become so evident that the goddess has blessed you, as well," Rhea replied. She gestured to the cup of tea remaining on the table. "Please, have a drink, and make yourself comfortable! I am sure there is much you're curious about."  
  
Byleth's bottom lip hugged the rim of the cup, and Rhea hated herself for wanting to shudder. Those eyes closed at once. _It really is her, truly! Like watching her nap at the throne, when she would-_  
  
"Saint Seiros?"  
  
"I beg your pardon?" Rhea's knuckles curled in the fabric of her dress. Byleth pointed to the bookshelves at the other end of the room.  
  
"You have several books on her. I don't think I've ever seen that many in the library."  
  
"Oh...well, yes. Those works in particular are sacred texts, all best left safe in my possession. Are you...curious about her?" The archbishop asked. Byleth, seemingly unfazed by the temperature of the tea, unfazed by all that swirled around her, nodded and considered Rhea with a heavy lids.  
  
"Why did she die?"  
  
"...Do you wish she was still with us?"  
  
"No," Byleth answered.  
  
"What ever makes you say that?!" Rhea urged her voice to stay calm, losing the battle as it spiked.  
  
"With the state Fódlan is in nowadays, I'm certain the enemies of the Church would seek her out," Byleth looked up, a rare softness playing at the corners of her face. "She's safer in heaven."   
  
Rhea bit at the corner of her cheek, pushing through tears.  
  
"She would be fond of you, my dear one."

* * *

Nails clawed deep into the wood of the bookshelf behind her. Tiny hands, in turn, gripped at her shoulders.  
  
With each thrust, Rhea saw something new spark behind the heavy fog of her beloved's eyes. It was like watching fireworks, punctuated by breathy moans that had flipped some switch in her brain, urging her to carry on and never stop that crazed pounding.  
  
Straps clung to the wide breadth of her hips, Byleth's own legs wrapped tightly around her waist. They'd soon come to learn it helped Byleth feel her deeper, helped her slip each bit of white, scaled rubber-like material further and further into that warmth Rhea had come to crave burying her face, fingers, _anything_ in when the hours of the day grew short and shadows filled the hallways.  
  
They had fallen headfirst into it. Tentative, bashful kisses after sermons led to wandering hands. Playful slaps and wanting tugs at sensitive spots led into a frantic crescendo of first-time lovemaking for them both, and it wasn't long until they claimed each other with shaking hands and hungry mouths in the sanctity of Rhea's four poster bed. They built a paradise between the sheets, in the warmth of the breaths they shared.  
  
What had started as shyness tumbled into raw, heated desire.  
  
Now, Rhea kissed her openly, tongues meeting and flicking with a rhythm of familiarity.  
  
Something in her skull buzzed. Her blood hummed within her veins. It was maddening, frenzied.  
  
Footsteps neared the door of the classroom, and Rhea pressed the academy's newest professor further into the tomes that lined the walls. She thrust harder, longing to hear those rare, rare screams she only recently learned she could coax out from Byleth.  
  
Students later that evening would whisper to each other, spreading rumors about hearing suggestive noises coming from down the hall, along with the slightly worrying, unmistakable sound of the archbishop babbling complete nonsense.

* * *

Rain pounded against her bedroom window. Lightning struck nearby, illuminating broken vases and deep claw marks that marred the walls. Books lay overturned, scraps of bed sheets in cinders.  
  
"Lady Rhea, our latest reports have Empire troops flanking the plains from both ends. It should be a challenge, but I'm not one to shy away from such a thing," Catherine added with a wink, shouldering Thunderbrand.  
  
Cyril nodded stiffly, determination burning behind heavy eyebrows and a mess of dark, curly hair.  
  
Rhea considered them both with a distant expression. She continued braiding the ends of her hair together, tying them up with a pink band. Catherine had volunteered to help, but Rhea had visibly bristled at the notion of letting someone touch her. Not again, not _ever_ again.  
  
For all Catherine was capable of, Rhea knew a gulf still separated them. Despite her undeniable dedication, Catherine still valued her self-worth based on how adept she was at wielding her brother's femur.

* * *

Pointed ears stuck out prominently from strands of green hair that clung to her scalp, matted with blood.  
  
She had shouted something to her troops upon seeing that small silhouette once more. They had regarded her with odd looks, as if she spoke a language they didn't understand. That had become the new normal. It tore at her, but not nearly as deeply as seeing those eyes once again.  
  
Their struggle was short-lived, as Rhea pulled Byleth to the ground.  
  
A chill ran up her spine, her hands running over places she used to claim with her teeth in such a different manner years and years ago.  
  
"Saint Seiros."  
  
Rhea looked down at her, the shadows of the sprawling wings on her crown spreading over Byleth's face. She swallowed thickly.  
  
"I beg your _pardon?__"_  
  
What a cruel, cruel joke.  
  
"Are you s-still..." Byleth struggled to speak now, Rhea gripping at her throat. "Are you s-s-still fond..of..me?"  
  
Rhea snarled, hand piercing Byleth's chest. Those eyes widened impossibly, staring up at her, the light behind them threatening to fade.  
  
Her fingers curled within the warmth. _That warmth._ She shrugged off the ghosts of memories that haunted her for days, taunted her with visions of Edelgard claiming a warmth that never belonged to her. _Hers._ Rhea's fingers met a smooth, roundness in the pit of Byleth's chest. The former professor's expression contorted.  
  
"At long last, Mother, we will be together again!"  
  
The air filled with the sound of tissue and tendons tearing, and a stifled scream from the other end of the battlefield. Crimson armor collapsed in a heap. Blood painted the grass red and puddled under their knees as Rhea dug through Byleth's chest, tossing organs aside as she scooped out her prize. She held the Crest of Flames stone in her hand, panting heavily now. Maddeningly, frenzied.  
  
"Mother! It's Rhea, please, tell me you can-"  
  
Not long after the stone had hit the air, it began to shrivel, crumbling in Rhea's fist. Adrenaline jolted through her body.  
  
_It was never meant to be so. All this time, clinging onto the past, like wilted flowers. _  
  
The stone now dissipated, Rhea gripped at the body before her, her knuckles white. She ran her hands frantically through the mess of tainted green locks. Once wide eyes stared back at her, stony as ever, but the flames behind them had been extinguished.  
  
Rhea threw back her head and howled.  
  
Even heaven would not want her now.

**Author's Note:**

> "And it's not a cry that you hear at night  
It's not somebody who's seen the light  
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah"


End file.
